Idgrod the Younger
by Lions Mark
Summary: Idgrod the Younger finds herself kidnapped by hired thugs. The most unsettling thing about it all? She's not sure she wants to escape. Warning: explicit content, dubious consent, bondage, and everything dirty. Dont like - scroll away.
1. Chapter 1

AN: Remembering the first time I played Skyrim a few years back, I thought about this lonely-looking girl Idgrod the Younger, and was a little disappointed by the lack of interactions with her. Except the short and non-rewarding quest regarding her brother. I am currently re-playing Skyrim, the Special Edition, and decided to give this lonely girl some adventures of her own.

Warnings were given in the summary. Keep reading at your own risk.

I do not own Skyrim or anything related to it!

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She lit her pipe with a small flicker of fire from her fingers, placed the mouthpiece between her lips and inhaled slowly, breathing deeply with her stomach. The glowing tobacco caressed her face for a moment with dim, yellow light, before fading away and allowing the darkness to swallow her up once again. She exhaled, and smoke from both the frost and the pipe seeped out of her lungs, finding its way through her mouth and nostrils with a deep sigh of relief.

Her head fell back a little and rested against the wall while she repeated the action and allowing her neck to relax. Closing her eyes, she slowly savored every breath.

It was a bad habit, she knew that very well. And yet, it was something she had managed to keep away from everyone, even Joric, her baby brother that she took care of.

This was _her_ time. Her very own secret and one of few things she allowed herself to indulge in, out of complete selfishness. Some people thought it to be a disgusting thing, and especially when women did it. It was simply unheard of.

But to Idgrod the Younger it was a sweet relief, her way of finding sanctuary after a long day tending to everyone else besides herself. Her days had been very long for many years.

Her brother Joric had the visions. The same as their mother did. Some said he was sick, others said crazy. Only a few people understood, like Danica in Whiterun. Danica used to send potions on a regular basis, to keep Joric sane. To keep him here, with them. And not _there_ … Wherever that was…

Idgrod shifted a little and bent her knee, placing her foot on the crate she sat on, resting her entire backside to the wall of Highmoon Hall. She took another deep breath of tobacco, and the remnants of a soft smile crossed her face. She thought about Joric, the baby brother she loved beyond anything else. She didn't really mind taking care of him. Still… she had wanted so many things for herself.

Idgrod had dreamt about adventures, exploring opportunities, breathtaking beauty, and dangerous missions. She had read books about glory, brave men and women who fought for what they believed to be honorable and right. The bards that passed through Morthal had sung about faraway places, different people in different lands. And Idgrod had dreamt about it, fantasized that she could hear the men roar, smell the burned ground and taste the victorious ale. She had wanted it all, desperately eager to experience the world and everything in it.

But then Joric was born, and eventually she had stopped dreaming. Now, Morthal felt more like a prison than a home, and she would even have settled for marriage, if only her mother would allow it. But those things were not for her.

In a different world, Joric could have received real help. He could have stayed with someone who would know how to treat him, teach him to control his visions. And Idgrod herself could have been allowed education at the College of Wintherhold, nursing and developing her skills as a sorcerer. But no… After all, she was a Nord, and Nords with magical abilities were very rare. Not to mention that her mother was the Jarl of Hjaalmarch, and the people of Hjaalmarch were suspicious towards magic in the first place. The Jarl's position was fragile enough already, and the Jarl didn't want her family to make it worse.

Idgrod the Younger snorted inwardly to this. It didn't make sense. It would have been wiser to send her and Joric away, would it not? Unfortunately, their father supported his wife in everything, and she had long ago discovered that it did not do any good talking to him about her wants.

With a small sigh, she continued smoking her pipe, forcing her mind to empty itself from the dark shadows that always seemed to creep around at the corners of her conscience.

Sneaking out like this in the middle of the night wasn't that hard. Sha had long ago discovered a hidden backdoor in the Jarls longhouse, and since the front entrance was always guarded, Idgrod used this hidden door every time she needed some peace and quiet. She didn't think anyone knew about the door, not even Gorm, their housecarl. If anyone knew, they never mentioned it.

Idgrod finished her tobacco, carefully banging out the ashes and leftovers against the bricks in the foundation of the house. It was a cold night, like most nights in Hjaalmarch. The clouds didn't allow the moon to light up their little town. She turned to face the wall, searching with her hands for the door that she had to push to get up. She knew that in daylight, it was barely visible. You had to know it was there to even recognize the outlines of something that resembled a door.

A small sound met her ear, barely a creak in the snow, alerted her to a presence behind her, and before she could even turn to look upon whoever it was, something hard hit her head and left her in numb darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

Idgrod struggled, a throbbing sensation at the back of her head worked against her consciousness, but she kept struggling. At first, the pain was everything. Then her senses started to function, and she heard noises, people whispering. The cold ground she laid on worked itself through her clothes, numbing her entire right side and chilling her very bones. Something hurt her cheeks too. With a lot of effort, she opened her eyes.

"She's waking," someone said, the voice was definitely male. Footsteps closed in on her, and three faces came into her vision. Three male faces looked down on her, from far above her. They were tall, all of them. Idgrod took the time to recognize whatever she could, the distinct look in their faces, their clothes and their entire demeanor. They looked like thugs.

"Hello sunshine," one of the men grinned at her.

Her natural fear of thugs made her immediate response to try and flurry away from them, screaming for help. Only too late did she notice the cloth that gagged her and muffled every sound she made, and too late did she notice the fact that she was tied up, hands bound to her back, and feet tied together.

The men watching her didn't seem very impressed by her futile attempt to crawl away, and the man who had spoken to her grinned wider. "Sorry flower, looks like you'll have to stay."

"I told you, she's not the one," one of the other men said, still looking at her but talking to the others.

"You're right, up close she doesn't look like her at all."

"Looks like we bagged ourselves a little reward then," the man who had greeted her said. He kept his stare on her, like he was considering something. Idgrod stared back at them. The man who spoke to her was slightly smaller than the other two. His features were sharper, almost beautiful, if it weren't for the look in his eyes and his unkempt and rugged appearance. The other two had typical Nord features, bright skin and bright eyes. It was all she managed to see, in the dark. They wore heavy armor, she noticed. And weapons accordingly. Definitely thugs…

The smallest of the three, if you could call any of them small, leaned forward while he spoke. "I'm going to remove this cloth now, and you're going to answer our questions. If you scream, I won't hesitate to knock you out," he said and stared at her harshly. "Do we understand each other?"

Idgrod nodded, afraid to do anything else. She wasn't dumber than that she knew he spoke truth, and if it was true, that they had taken the wrong person, she wasn't of any value to them.

The man smiled in an unfriendly matter, and reached for her to remove the cloth.

Once removed, she licked her lips to moist them and cleared her throat. Her mouth felt dry like sand.

"Now, first things first," he said, pleased that she hadn't screamed. "Who are you?"

"Idgrod," she answered. Her voice sounded hoarse and weak. As if she'd been out of it for a long time. Her eyes quickly scanned the area to confirm the suspicion. It had begun to lighten in the sky. Dawn was coming. The area seemed to be in a forest. Trees surrounded them. Maybe they were close to Morthal after all. Trying to pinpoint her location, she searched the sky for the dawning light.

"Idgrod," one of the other men repeated questioningly. "That's the name of the Jarl of Morthal".

"It is," the man hovering over her confirmed. She could hear the smile in his voice when he continued. "Idgrod Ravenscrone, I believe. I also believe, if my memory is correct, that the Jarl has a daughter named after her." The last part he uttered like a question towards her, tilting his head slightly.

Not trusting her voice, Idgrod simply nodded.

"Then she must know where to find the Dragonborn," the other man standing said. With his right hand, he reached for his left hip, drawing a sword, slowly unsheathing it. It was long, looked heavy and dangerous. Idgrod's heart raced, and she stared at them one at the time.

They were looking for the Dragonborn?

The man hovering over her didn't say anything. He kept his head tilted, and she could practically feel the questioning eyes on her, like a prickle in the skin.

"Where's the Dragonborn?" the man with the sword asked, directing the tip of his sword towards her.

Idgrod's mind reeled. Suddenly she understood why they had been mistaken. She and the Dragonborn could resemble one another at a distance, and especially in the dark. The Dragonborn had the same length and hair as Idgrod, the same height and somewhat the same body. The Dragonborn had, however, a more muscular physique, and different features in the face. And, she didn't wear dresses, like Idgrod.

The Dragonborn, or Dovahkiin, had been holed up in Morthal the last couple of weeks, but now she had taken a few of the town's men with her to solve some trouble concerning the death of Hroggar's family.

She stared at the tip of the Nord man's sword like a hypnotized child, her heart racing and her mind scattering around. If she gave these men the answers they needed, would they kill her and leave her there?

"Answer the question!" the man hovering over here grabbed her chin and forced her to look at him. Idgrod winced, his grip was hurting her.

"Please don't kill me!" she whined. "Please."

"We won't. If you answer our questions, we might let you live. Might even let you go." The man said, releasing her chin from his grip. "Now, where's the Dragonborn?" he asked, and his voice had softened a little. It didn't soothe her nerves though. The softness to his voice gave her a sickening feeling.

"She went north this morning. Took some men with her."

"Where?"

"Movarth's Lair, I think."

The man stood up, looking at the other two. The Nord who had pointed his sword at her sheathed it and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Movarth is a vampire, right?" he asked. Idgrod simply nodded.

"And the Dragonborn took men with her? Then it's safe to assume she'll return to Morthal?" The three men looked at each other, and then at her.

"Will you let me go?" she asked. "The entire city will look for me!" She tried to make her voice certain and threatening, but failed miserably. It sounded more like a desperate plea than anything else.

The man who had grabbed her, the slightly smaller one, laughed and leaned over her once again. She couldn't see his eyes, or the details of his face, but the menacing and mocking tone to his voice made her spine freeze.

"We can't have you running back to dear old mommy and tell on us, now can we. Might scare off the Dragonborn. We've been chasing that damn woman for some time, and we could use a break. To simply wait for her return is exactly that break." He rose to a standing position. "I guess you're just an unforeseen reward".

She gaped, not believing her ears. "They will look for me!"

"Then we have to make sure they don't find you, now won't we?" the man answered.

One of the Nord men pulled a knife and knelt at her side, cutting the rope around her ankles. The other Nord grabbed her shoulders and hauled her to her feet. Idgrod shuddered, but held her balance. Standing, she noticed how big the men really were. Three pair of broad shoulders, and all of them at least one head taller than her, surrounded her and made her feel small and insignificant.

"You can walk, as long as you don't run. If you try to run your walking privileges will be withdrawn and you'll be carried, like a puppet. Do you understand?"

"Y-yes."

"Good girl," he praised unfriendlily. "Now let's get moving."

Without waiting for any more answers, one of the Nords showed her forward, and they started to walk. Away from the direction that she knew her town was.


	3. Chapter 3

The men walked fast, and Idgrod stumbled in her attempt to keep up with them. They were going southwest, following the River Hjaal at a distance. Idgrod knew that up the river there would be a fisherman's hut called the Crabber's Shanty. She had no idea who occupied the hut at the moment though, and this left little hope for the possibility to get help. And what was a simple fisherman supposed to do with three huge and heavily armed thugs anyway? She could, maybe, just maybe, be able to get the fisherman to head for Morthal and let her parents know what had happened. But this required some thought and planning. And that required time. Time she did not have. She noticed that they were close already.

The men walked around her, careful to stay among the trees and not out in the open. It was almost daylight, and with it she noticed just how dusty and well worn their outfits looked. They were probably not kidding about having chased the Dragonborn for some time. The weathered and battered looks of their armor told her everything. She could only study them carefully, as one of them walked behind her she didn't dare to turn around to look at him. The two who walked ahead of her were one of the Nords and the other one. She guessed he was an Imperial, and a big one too. He had dark hair, messy and uncombed, drawn back from his face. The other had a short, blondish mohawk, and from her memory she knew that the one behind her had long, reddish/blonde hair.

The Imperial carried a sword and a dagger, and the Nord had a huge battleaxe strapped to his back. The axe alone probably weighted the same as her, and Idgrod took a mental note about staying as far away from its reach as humanly possible.

The Crabber's Shanty was getting closer, and her mind raced around in search for an escape. She didn't doubt for a second that they would carry her, probably hurting her, or knock her out if she tried to run, so she had to make sure they wouldn't get the chance to catch her.

Carefully, she slowed her steps. The river made a turn right ahead of them, and the hut was just around the next corner. If she remembered correctly, the cabin was located close to a waterfall too.

"Keep moving." The Nord behind her growled, and pushed her forward. It got the attention of the two others, and Idgrod looked at them with what she hoped was a helpless expression, pleading.

"Please. I'm so thirsty". It wasn't a lie. Her mouth was dry, her lips felt like they were about to split, and the dehydration made her feel a little nauseous.

She noticed that the Imperial had dark eyes, and the Nord had light grey ones. They frowned at her for a moment and she felt the claws of panic in her gut when she looked back into their eyes. The Imperial finally nodded.

"Give her some water," he said.

The longhaired Nord released a container from his belt and opened it. He held it towards her lips, his green eyes meeting hers, waiting for her to swallow when he tipped it slightly. She moved her head away, refusing to drink.

"My hands, please, they hurt." Also, the truth. The rope around her wrists were cutting and gnawing at her skin, and her muscles felt sore.

The Imperial sighed and pulled a knife to cut the ropes, releasing her hands. With a grimace of pain, Idgrod moved her arms forward and reached for the bottle.

The water met her lips, and Idgrod drank it, greedy with thirst. She purposely drank everything, and when she finished she looked at it with disappointed expression, before she made very sure that the men followed her gaze when she fixed her eyes on the river.

"Can I fill it?" she asked, and once again tried to look helplessly pleading. Her dark eyes searched theirs, knowing very well that they might not be the type to fall for this kind of behavior.

If it was her, or the fact that the sun and the walk had started to warm them up, she didn't know, but the Nord with the battleaxe took the container out of her hands.

"I'll fill it," he said and started to walk towards the riverbank. "Could use a drink myself."

Idgrod watched him, waiting for him to bend down by the river to fill up the flask. She noticed that the others were watching him as well, and she realized this was the time.

Without even bothering to try attack them, she bolted off into a lightning speed run, towards the direction she knew the hut would be in. She knew that from here, she would come to it from the top of the waterfall, and her plan was to throw herself down, to dive and preferably be able to swim away from her captors. Their armor and weapons were heavy and would make them sink like rocks, so she doubted they would follow her unless they felt like drowning.

She heard the men yell, her feet working her muscles as hard as they could. Her heart pounded in her ears and she fixed her eyes forward. She had to make it, she had to.

Something green flashed before her eyes, and suddenly, she stopped running.

Her mind clouded. Where was she? What happened? Confused and disoriented, Idgrod looked around. Why was she tired? Had she been running? Why? Why would she run?

She felt tired, but at the same time content and calm. Confusion rolled over her in waves, trying to wash away the calmness about being in such a beautiful place. Unwillingly she sighed in relief and happiness, almost giggling. The scenery was spectacular! Speaking of, how did she get here?

Wandering a little back and forth, smiling blissfully to the sun at the same time as she frowned upon finding herself so far away from home, she turned around.

"Ohhh, there's someone," she sang, eagerly out loud to herself. "Maybe they can help."

Three men walked towards her with slow and steady strides. They were unbelievaby dirty, maybe they'd travelled far? Poor guys. Deciding there and then to shelter them and reward them with food and baths if they helped her, she waved and smiled, jumping up and down like a happy child. "Hey guys!"

Her hand lowered itself slowly and insecurely when they didn't return the greeting. In fact, they looked mad, angry even. Idgrod blinked, confusion rolling over her once again, prickling at the back of her skull and urging her to realize that something was wrong. They didn't look friendly, at all.

When they came closer, one of the men (wow, were they big or what?) stepped forward, and out of mere instinct she backed away a couple of steps. The hostility about them turned her happy feeling into sinking fear, and when the man finally grabbed her hand, the confusion evaporated in an instant.

Scared, she tried to pull away, but he jerked her back, causing her stumble and fall to the ground. The man was definitely Imperial, she realized. And the spell he had cast out could only be his naturally born gift; The Voice of the Emperor. He placed himself on top of her, sitting on her chest, holding her hands in one hand and with a dagger under her chin with the other.

"Run away from us one more time, and you won't be able to walk again. _Ever_!" He snarled and stared at her with intensely dark eyes, and Idgrod, for the first time in a very long time, felt tears release themselves from her eyes.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" she repeated it, over and over. She hated this, feeling weak and powerless. It was a gruesome discovery, to realize just how protected and sheltered she had been in Morthal, inside the security of her home. And she had dreamt about dangers! The bitterness tore at her, how stupid and naïve she had been about everything. Now, in the face of danger, all she wanted was to go home, to be safe. To be _bored_ …

Overwhelmed by defeat and just how easily she had broken, she closed her eyes in shame.

Idgrod barely bothered to take notice when her hands were tied again, and someone hauled her up, throwing her over his shoulder. It didn't matter. She didn't care anymore.


	4. Chapter 4

The Crabber's Shanty looked deserted at the moment, and the thugs headed for it. Idgrod decided it was best not to wonder where the fisherman was. She might not like the answer.

Well inside, the Nord who carried her threw her on the bed with a thump.

The men cleared the table of rubble, mostly fishing equipment and a disjointed mudcrab, pulled it away from the wall, and then sat down. One of them opened a bottle of something, and they took turns drinking from it.

Still curled up in the bed, Idgrod watched them for a while. They seemed to be in great symbiosis with each other, and she could only guess it was because of their many years together as thugs for hire. She didn't really pay attention to what they talked about. All she wondered was how she would be able to leave this place alive. She had seen their faces, she would be able to point them out later, and this would make them hunted men. Had they thought about that? Maybe they weren't planning to let her go, at least not alive.

The shack wasn't exactly a secure place to hold a captive. It was very small, sparsely furnished with only the bed, a shelf, and the small table. It had two doorways, but no doors. Next to the bed was also a very big window. More than big enough for her to crawl through, she thought, looking out at the river and the roaring waterfall. She knew running was no use. At least not when that Imperial possessed such an effective way of pacifying her. Using her own power, the Battle Cry, would not be useful unless she had a very quick way of escaping and getting far away from them before the spell broke.

Even though the situation was stressful, Idgrod couldn't help noticing how exhausted she was. It tickled her limbs, her head felt heavy, and the bed was strangely comfortable to lie in. She sighed and hid a yawn behind her hand, slouching down on the bed into a more comfortable position. Her eyes started to flutter, and she met the eyes of the Imperial, who continued to talk to his men while holding her gaze, watching her as she was about to drift asleep. Before she even realized it herself, she finally succumbed to the urge.

When she woke up again, the first thing she noticed was that the men had untied her hands. Tired, stiff and hot, she got out of the bed. The men were nowhere to be seen, but she heard their voices close by. Judging by the heat inside the shack, it was sometime in the middle of the day.

Without wasting time, she immediately started to search the small shack. Nothing inside looked like it could be used as a weapon, apart from a mudcrab's claws. Peeking outside, she found the men's armor on the porch, but not their weapons.

Male voices approached from behind her, entering the shack's other doorway. Idgrod steeled herself and turned to face them. The Imperial and the long-haired Nord looked back at her. They looked freshly bathed, their hairs glistened with water, and their linen shirts had the telltale prints from wet hands.

"So, the little flower has decided to join the world of the living," the Imperial said mockingly, accompanied by some laughter from the other. He pulled out one of the chairs next to the table and sat down, throwing his feet on the table and crossing his arms. "Sleep well?"

Idgrod didn't bother to answer. She crossed her arms and glared at them while she slowly distanced herself from them, exiting the shack. The missing Nord, the one with the mohawk, had apparently circled the shack from outside. His heavy pounded on the porch, and he startled her by grabbing her shoulders, pushing her though the doorway and back inside.

Fear and fury washed over her. "Don't touch me!"

"Now, there, sunshine," said the Imperial. "I think we got off on the wrong foot here. My name is Leo, by the way," he pointed at the man with the mohawk, and then the longhaired one. "And that's Ragnar and Hallgeir".

She kept glaring, wondering why they would tell her their names. It could only mean that they weren't afraid of being charged for this crime later.

The longhaired Nord named Hallgeir sat down at the table, while the other kept standing behind her, blocking the doorway. They all looked at her, like they waited for something. The Imperial, Leo, pulled out a bottle from his pouch and took a swing of it, before offering it to her. Idgrod shook her head, recognizing the smell of strong alcohol. Leo frowned, placed his feet back on the floor and leaned closer to her.

"I'm not sure you fully realize your situation here, little lady," his eyes seemed dark and intense, yet his lips curled into something resembling a smile. A bone chilling and cold smile. "You see, we're hired by a very powerful man. A man who has a thorn in the side to the Dragonborn. Now, in our contract, it says that we're supposed to get to this Dragonborn by any means necessary. Do you get that? _By any means…. Necessary_." He spoke slowly at the end, emphasizing every word, staring at her intently.

"She doesn't get it," Hallgeir commented dryly. "It means, that until further notice, you're gonna have to do exactly as we say. You can start by not acting like a stubborn child, and accept the small tokens of friendliness we have to offer." His voice was deep and gruff, like the roar of a bear.

Leo held the bottle closer to her, and Idgrod finally took it. She took a long swing at it, couching when it burned her throat and warmed her from the inside.

"Good girl," Hallgeir praised, his green eyes mocking her with his expression.

"Now, like we said, we need a break. And waiting here for the Dragonborn to return is an excellent opportunity," Leo said, casually relaxing in his chair, only casting a look towards her now and then when he spoke. "We're simple men, really. All we require to be able to…. _relax_ , is a place to take off our boots, have a drink, and enjoy the company of a beautiful woman".

That got her attention. Idgrods eyes shot up from her studies of the floor, only to meet the slightly satisfied stare of Hallgeir. Ragnar, who was leaning against the doorframe next to her, just looked at her expectantly.

"You c-… you can't be serious!" she finally uttered, a horrifying realization dawning upon her. They weren't joking. She could tell by the blank expressions in their faces, by the slightly raised eyebrow in Leo's face and the way Ragnar straightened against the doorframe.

In an instant, Idgrod scurried away from the monstrous men. She had nowhere to go in the small space of the shack, but she didn't care. Like a frightened animal she guarded their movements, observing everything they did. Leo remained seated, but Hallgeir stood up. Both him and Ragnars demeanors changed, watchful of her in return.

"You cannot do that!" she shouted, scared and angry at the same time. Her chest tightened while she struggled to keep her breaths under control. Her fingers twitched nervously. If only she had possessed powerful sorcery.

Leo chuckled at locked eyes with her. "No one will have to know," he said with a malicious grin. "After all, you're not a virgin."

Idgrod froze and stared at him in shock. Unable to believe what she had just heard. How could they possibly know? _No one_ knew! Her pale face searched his for answers, and as if he heard her thoughts, he answered, embarrassing her, making her feel hot and cold at the same time, and unbelievably ashamed.

"You were unconscious for some time. I took the liberty to check".

"You raped me while I was unconscious?!" her panic was a fact. She breathed heavy, backed away from them and would probably claw her way through the walls, if it was possible.

"No!" Leo answered with a dark voice. "We're not like that. We like our women alive and kicking."

Like on an invisible order, a telepathic agreement, Ragnar and Hallgeir came towards her. Idgrod kicked, screamed and tried to scratch them. When Ragnar got a hold of one of her arms, she bit him, causing Hallgeir to grab her braided hair and yank her head backwards and away from Ragnar.

"Pussycat has claws and teeth, eh?" Ragnar growled, pushing her body towards the table where Leo was still sitting, watching the show with cold eyes. Like he was bored of the entire thing, as if he had seen it too many times, tired of hysterical and unreasonable women.

Idgrod panted, the struggle taking away her strength. They were too strong, she couldn't fight them. Hallgeir still held her hair, and Ragnar had her arms in a tight grip behind her back.

"You don't strike me as a slow person," Leo said with a low voice. "Still, I'm surprised that it took you this long to understand the meaning of you being an unforeseen reward". He almost looked amused when he met her hateful glare. "Honestly, I would have thought you to be the willing type. You certainly have the appeal in your entire being and body."

He rose from his chair, giving away the table to his Nord friends. Without hesitation, they bent Idgrod's upper body forward and down on it, holding her in place with strong arms. Leo still looked at her face while he continued to talk.

"Who knows, Idgrod the Younger. You might enjoy this after all."

In the corner of her eye, she saw Hallgeir retrieve ropes. Her heart pounded in her chest when the two Nords worked together to tie one of her feet down, fastening it to the tale's legs. Her hands were forced forward, held together by Hallgeir while he tied them and secured them to the table. When they were finished, she was stuck. Leo watched from where he stood, Ragnar started to lift her dress, caressing her thighs as he did. Idgrod were too shocked to scream, but she continuously mumbled "no" and "please don't".

Ragnar held her untied leg in a painfully hard grip as he continued to caress her body. Her underwear was cut away, giving the Nord free access to her most intimate parts. His large hand was surprisingly warm and careful, caressing her hips and thigs in determined movements.

Idgrods desperate and angry panting slowed down. Still, she yanked the bods and tried to wriggle away from his hand when he closed in on her sex.

"Hold still, pussycat," the Nord said, leaning close to her ear, while his hand searched her.

She could feel his calloused fingers searching her, finding that little secret nub between her legs. He stroked it with one finger, making her involuntary jump and whimper. She didn't realize it herself, but the constant begging had stopped, replaced by whimpers and deep breaths.

What she did realize though, was that Ragnars fingers made her feel weak and numb. Her body responded to it without her permission, leaving her confused and angry at herself. Her stomach tightened and heated while Ragnar began stroking that little nub with determination.

It sent a wave of craving through her, made her want it, want more, like a painful hunger at the very core of her body. When he stopped stroking her, she almost begged him to continue. The warmth he sent through her thighs were too good to be ignored.

He placed a finger at her entrance, searching it, feeling her around. She could hear his voice chuckle softly and the heat from his body when he leaned over her and talked. "She's wet. I believe the little pussycat enjoys me, doesn't she?" Without waiting for an answer, his thick finger found its way inside her, causing Idgrod to retaliate with a loud and very embarrassing moan of pleasure. She flushed and bit her lip, and Ragnars finger stroked her on the inside, feeling her, finding spots inside her she didn't even know about. It made her shiver, it made her legs soft and unable to bear her, and for a moment she was glad that she was lying on the table.

Ragnar allowed a second finger to enter her, curling inside her and gently rubbing at something. She groaned and strained the bonds securing her to the table, no longer sure if it was escape or desire that motivated her. Her hips shot out to him, without her even realizing it. All she could feel was the unbelievable, deceitful warmth in her body and her own wetness.

His fingers retreated from her, only to find the little nub on the outside again. He covered it in her own fluids, teasing her further.

"I believe," she heard Leo say, and realized that he was watching her intently with a satisfied and devious expression. "That the little flower wants you to fuck her."

"Then I shall not deny her," Ragnar responded with a gruff voice. Idgrod whimpered in protest when he removed his hand from her, only to gasp in surprise when he replaced it with something far bigger, harder and warmer. He steered himself to her entrance, pushing himself between her lower lips. Idgrod inhaled in expectation of pain, feeling him slowly force himself inside her, widening her at an excruciatingly slow pace, savoring each moment. His finger resumed the stroking of her sensitive nub.

It was too much, the throbbing hardness that entered her was big, way bigger then what she had taken before, it filled her and pushed onto every button inside her. She heard Ragnar gasp and moan, his voice shaking a little. Once he had made his way to the bottom of her inside, he stopped moving.

"Oooohhh, yeaahh…" he exhaled between clenched teeth, a slight shiver running through his body. "You guys gotta try this pussy. She's tiiiiight."

Idgrod barely noticed in the corner of her vision that Hallgeir had freed his own member, and now was stroking himself off to the sight of her being penetrated by Ragnar. All she had in her mind was the building sensation in her gut, the knot of unreleased force, held back by a fragile dam, and the only thing standing between her and the release, was Ragnars finger that hat stopped caressing her for a moment. She moaned almost angrily at him, and immediately he picked up pace. He started to move inside her, almost leaving her entirely on his way out, making her follow him and practically beg him for more. And when he entered her, he pushed himself slowly as far as he could go, and even a little further. His finger worked her continuously while he slowly fucked her, savoring her and the warm tightness she surrounded him in. She heard his breath become heavy and labored.

She strained again against the ropes around her wrists, her body tensing and relaxing in accordance to Ragnar's slow and unhurried fucking. Her breath quickened as the tension in her stomach spread to her thighs, her back arched involuntarily and she lifted herself to meet the man's thrusts. She could tell by his breathing and the slightly harder thrusts that he had a hard time holding back.

Finally, Idgrods dam shattered. With loud and shrill moans, her entire body exploded into tiny bits and pieces, making her shake uncontrollably and hard, her internal muscles clamped down on Ragnars member and she bit her lip in painful pleasure as he took this as a sign to pick up his own pace, this time with force and harshness. He held her free leg in place; probably bruising her, his other hand moved to hold her head down close to the tabletop all the while he fucked her hard, punishing her for biting him earlier. His grunts had gone from shaky to angry, and the table moved slightly from the force of his thrusts. Idgrod was wet and accommodating from her own release, but the thrusts were hurting her slightly, and she began whimpering.

The hand at the back of her head moved to grab her neck in a hard grip. "That's right," Ragnar growled between his teeth. "You like the pain, don't you?"

She half whimpered and half moaned in response.

Suddenly he started to shake slightly, grunting with a deep voice, he pushed himself to the hilt and held his position. His member widened, and Idgrod could feel the warmth of his release pumping inside her, filling her and widening her further, to the point of overflow. Giving her another few thrusts while he emptied himself, Ragnar finally sighed in relief.

"I think this little arrangement will work out just fine, don't you?" Leo chuckled and met her glassy, slightly tearful eyes. Idgrod panted and was too tired to even glare at him, still coming down from her high, she turned her head away and closed her eyes.

She hated them. She hated them! She hated the sadistic and mischievous look in Leo's eyes. Hated the sticky and warm liquid that followed when Ragnar finally pulled himself out of her. It ran down her bound leg in small droplets. Most of all she hated herself, and how much she had enjoyed this. It was sick, and wrong, and nothing like what she had experienced before.

It was also terrifying.


	5. Chapter 5

The thugs had relieved Idgrod from her bonds and allowed her to stagger towards the bed. They left her alone, leaving the shack, and when they returned they gave her water and something to eat. She had retreated into the corner of the bed, creating as much distance between herself and the men as possible. She ate the roasted salmon in silence, slowly, forcing every bite down. Her appetite was nonexistent, but she knew she needed all the strength she could gather if she was hoping to escape. Starving was not an option.

Outside, the sun was setting and the sky quickly darkened.

Even though Ragnar had been quick to finish, he had still been far bigger than Idgrod was used to. Even though he had been mindful of her and made sure it wasn't all painful, he had still been rough at the end. The slightly unpleasant throbbing in her nether regions told her she was swelling up, and Idgrod shifted her position a little. She cast him an angry glare between the mouthfuls of fish.

He sat at the table with his companions, eating his own fish, and drinking mead. Nothing about the mohawked Nord's demeanor revealed that he had just fucked an unwilling woman, and even forced her to enjoy it. They were discussing over a map while they ate, debating back and forth how much time the Dragonborn would need to get to Movarth's Lair, clean it out, and then return to Morthal.

A couple of days, at most, they concluded.

Idgrod had difficulties looking at the other men. No words could express how utterly humiliated she felt. Leo and Hallgeir had merely watched while Ragnar fucked her. They had watched while he forced her to orgasm. Or, Hallgeir had pleasured himself, which was almost worse.

She swallowed hard and took a mouthful of water, washing down the shame and the food at once.

How could she have enjoyed that, she scolded herself. How could her body respond to a stranger in such a way? Idgrod had believed that sexual attraction only came from close relationships. The only man she had ever been attracted to was the Imperial Legate stationed at Highmoon Hall; Taurinus Duilis. He had come there when the war began, asserting the Imperial Legion's position in Hjaalmarch, and Idgrod, starved on male company, had been very curious about him.

It turned out he had been equally curious about her, surely noticing the careful glances she had sent him. As time went on and he remained in Morthal, they had entered a slowly burning and secret relationship. She had lost her virginity to that man, and he had been so infinitely gentle, understanding and patient with her. He always was. She sometimes felt he was too gentle, as if she was a porcelain doll he feared would break. He never touched her uninvited, and he was always careful not to give her any attention when anyone could notice. Which meant that he barely looked at her during the day. They kept their meetings secret, sneaking out to meet each other at night, silently without waking anyone. When they had sex, Taurinus called it 'making love'. It was sweet and slow, filled with quiet whispers and hushed moans.

Idgrod frowned at herself. Taurinus had never tried to give her an orgasm during their nightly meetings. Sure, she enjoyed the sex, but it always lacked that little extra….. She shot a glace towards Ragnar…. Mind numbing pleasure.

Shame and anger made her blood boil. Involuntarily, she made a face and groaned silently, covering her face with the palms of her hands.

How could something so _wrong_ be so enticing?

Chairs scraping against the wooden floor told her the others were done eating, Feet walked over to her, and Idgrod stiffened. The next second, something nudged at her side. Idgrod peeked sideways at it.

Someone was offering her a bottle of mead.

Relieved, Idgor took it, and looked up to find Ragnar hovering above her. "You done eating?" his rough voice asked.

She nodded in response, removed her eyes from him and opened the mead bottle and took a long swing from it. Gulping down many mouthfuls before she removed the bottle from her lips, Idgrod exhaled and gasped for air once she was done. Ragnar, still hovering above her, chuckled.

"That bad, huh?" he asked, moving to sit down next to her on the bed. His burly limbs and weight made the bed creak in protest. Idgrod scooted further away from him, curling up in the corner of the bed and nursing the bottle of mead between her hands, refusing to look at him. In her peripheral vision, she saw that Leo was rummaging through their equipment on the porch. Hallgeir was cleaning the table. She took another deep mouthful of the mead.

"You do realize I am to be the next Jarl of Hjaalmarch?" she asked him, scowling sideways at Ragnar. "That will make me a powerful woman."

He was resting his back to the wall, relaxing with a bottle of mead in his hand, his knees wide apart and his feet planted steadily on the floor. Taking a slow sip from the bottle before he answered, he didn't look at her. "Not if the Stormcloacks win the war."

"Are you siding with the rebels?"

Ragnar shrugged. "We side with whoever pays the most."

Idgrod looked away from him, deep in thought. The Dragonborn had not said so, but everyone knew the woman favored Ulfric Stormcloack and his rebel army. That didn't stop the Jarl of Morthal from asking for her assistance though, promising the Dragonborn the title of Thanehood. Idgrod the Younger suspected her mother was hoping the Dragonborn would speak on Morthal's behalf, if sufficiently inspired to do so. The title of Thanehood could be very inspiring, she realized.

She took another long swing of the mead bottle, gulping down the remaining content. She could feel the alcohol beginning to work, a slightly numbing sensation spreading through her shoulders and down her backside. Even though the sweet taste of honey camouflaged the alcohol, she could tell this was one of the stronger brews. Turning the bottle and inspecting the label, she saw that it was the Black-Briar Meadery's brand. An expensive brand.

Leo the Imperial came back inside the shack and kneeled next to the bed, looking straight at Idgrod. With no more space to scoot away into, Idgrod almost held her breath, tensing, wary of his approach. He held a small, red flask in his hand, and offered it to her with a mischievous grin.

She eyed him and the red flask suspiciously. His dark eyes roamed her figure, before settling in the direction of her groin. "To alleviate the discomfort," he explained, nodding towards her body. "Apply directly onto the skin."

"Why?" she asked, still not taking the flask.

His grin returned. "We wouldn't want you to suffer for our pleasure, now would we?" When she still didn't take the flask, his grin disappeared and was replaced with a frown. He placed the flask on the bed. "Very well, your choice." Rising to stand, he spoke to his men. "I'll take first watch. We should ready ourselves for the night.

Ragnar and Hallgeir began to ready two bedrolls on the floor. One at each entrance of the shack. Leo brought a bottle of mead with him, and seated himself outside on a barrel close to the window and with a view of her through it. Idgrod had not moved from her tense position at the corner of her bed, but once the Nord thugs had made themselves comfortable on their bedrolls, she allowed herself to relax. They extinguished the lights, and the shack fell into dark silence.

Moving the small, red flask away, Idgrod laid down on the bed. Listening through the sounds from the waterfall for the men's soft snores, she stared awhile into the darkness. The mead had made her sufficiently sedated and able to drift asleep shortly after.


End file.
